


Desirable

by sleepymccoy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Dream, Sharing a Bed, Spocks Vulcan voodoo, bones is horny and pissed off about it, gosh what a realistic premise they have to share a bed oh no..., i mean theres like minimal plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy had always had an odd pattern in his dreams. If he was cold his dreams were black and white. If he were comfortable they’d be pleasant. Sometimes when stressed he’d have the odd nightmare. If he were overheating he invariably had a sex dream, and one that was entirely, convincingly real. And tonight was no exception. As he and Spock lay together underneath the pile of blankets the temperature rose to a level that had McCoy breaking out into a sweat in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desirable

McCoy rolled over, the hard ground endlessly uncomfortable as the cold diligently seeped through the blanket he'd placed beneath him. He could hear Spock's steady, quiet breathing over on the bed. He couldn't regret his decision to take the floor, Spock would be freezing here, whereas he was just miserable. He sat up quietly and looked over at the curled up Spock. Spock sniffed.

 

“Spock,” McCoy whispered, “Are you asleep?”

 

He heard Spock sigh. “Negative, Doctor, what is it?” he asked.

 

“It's fucking cold, is what it is,” McCoy groaned, curling his knees so that he could rub some warmth into his toes.

 

Spock sighed again and rolled onto his side to look down at McCoy. “I too am finding the temperature below optimal.”

 

“You're cold?” McCoy asked sharply.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you shivering?”

 

Spock paused before responding. “Sparingly.”

 

McCoy sighed. He considered the situation and came to one horrible conclusion. “Are you ok with me joining you?” he asked like it physically hurt him to request it.

 

Spock was silent. Spock was silent for quite a while. McCoy grimaced and rolled his eyes, waiting for Spock to wrap his head around this suggestion. “Do you think that… desirable?” Spock asked.

 

McCoy chuckled dryly. “Well, desirable isn't the word I'd pick, but we've split the blankets, so we could be warmer,” he mumbled. He really was very uncomfortable on the ground.

 

Spock was quiet for another moment, before, “Very well, then.”

 

McCoy wasn't sure if he was relieved or not by this response. Well, at least he had a shot at sleeping tonight, even if he would have to tell Jim he shared a bed with Spock. He threw his meager blankets off and stood up, stretching briefly in the cold air. He picked the blankets up and threw them over the top of Spock. 

 

McCoy squared his shoulders and prepared himself. “Alright, budge up,” McCoy said. He pulled the blankets back and clambered in. Spock remained curled into a ball on the far side of the bed, facing away from him. Probably for the best, really. “Spock, d'you always sleep so tightly wound up?” he asked despite himself. 

 

McCoy felt the sheet twitch as Spock shifted. “When I am cold, yes,” Spock said. 

 

McCoy sighed again. “Look, d’you want-” he stopped himself and sighed again. “Would you like me to… hold you? You know, share body heat,” he added quickly. This was painful.

 

Spock was silent for a few seconds. “If you are willing?” He said carefully.

 

McCoy nodded and rolled over to spoon Spock. He was cold, colder than usual, and definitely shivering. “Damn, Spock, you’re halfway to frozen. You should’ve said something,” he grumbled into Spock’s ear. Spock said nothing but simply curled further in on himself, pushing his back firmly against McCoy’s chest. McCoy found himself automatically raising a hand to rub some life into Spock’s arm, his concerned side overpowering any awkwardness about the situation. 

 

“I should inform you,” Spock said drowsily. “Vulcans are touch telepaths, if we fall asleep in this much contact we may share certain emotions. Or dreams, possibly.”

 

McCoy smiled to himself. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I’m too exhausted to dream anyway.”

 

After some time Spock’s shivering subsided and a warmth began to grow beneath the blankets. McCoy relaxed into his position,pulled his legs up against Spock’s and began to drift off. Spock’s body felt very nice curled up in his arms. His right arm he left entwined between Spock’s arms, resting against his chest. He could feel his quick heartbeat thrumming through his abdomen. Slowly and steadily they drifted off to sleep together. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy had always had an odd pattern in his dreams. If he was cold his dreams were black and white. If he were comfortable they’d be pleasant. Sometimes when stressed he’d have the odd nightmare. If he were overheating he invariably had a sex dream, and one that was entirely, convincingly real. And tonight was no exception. As he and Spock lay together underneath the pile of blankets the temperature rose to a level that had McCoy breaking out into a sweat in his sleep. 

 

The dream quickly faded to a foggy memory once McCoy woke up. He lay there contentedly, still wrapped around the overly warm body in front of him. He remembered moments and feelings from the dream, but no realistic time sequence or concept of who he was dreaming of. Whoever it was, though, they were a damn good lay. He remembered fucking them up against a wall, being ridden half to death in a chair, writhing, tangling limbs up with sheets in bed. Damned good snippets of dream, there. He could confidently say, however, that he had not actually had sex with anyone in the night judging by just how turned on he now was.

 

The person in front of him shifted and McCoy groaned, sinking his head into the shoulder blades before him in the hope that he could drift back off to sleep for a little while longer and enjoy a moment of heat on this frozen planet. The person shifted again and began pushing his arm away.

 

“Doctor,” Spock said in admonishment as McCoy attempted to grip him tighter, not wanting to deal with the cold air.

 

“Spock?” McCoy asked in confusion. “Spock!” The memory of the night before came rushing back to him, all at once. 

 

“Yes, Doctor?” Spock asked dryly, fully aware of McCoy’s mild panic due to the contact still between them. When McCoy remained still Spock said, “Doctor, would you please release me?”

 

McCoy let Spock go. He moaned when the cool air of the room hit him and rolled over, pulling the blankets with him. Spock began pulling a spare robe on while McCoy battled with sleep. “Spock?” McCoy asked. “Did we share a dream?”

 

He heard Spock stop for a moment. “Ah, based on the content of my dream, I believe we may have,” Spock said slowly. 

 

McCoy’s cringe morphed into a yawn. A thought occurred to him. “Spock?” He mumbled. “Did we have the exact same dream, or the same dream from different points of view?”

 

“I do not know,” Spock said.

 

McCoy stretched, writhing under the sheets. He was so damn tired, they hadn't gotten to sleep until way too late. His brain was struggling to wake up. “Cos, you know, I dreamt I was fucking someone.” McCoy interrupted himself with another yawn. “Jus’ wondering if you were the same.”

 

Spock seemed to physically pause. McCoy enjoyed a moment of satisfaction at rendering Spock momentarily speechless. “I am not sure,” Spock said slowly. “I vaguely recall being penetrated,” he muttered. 

 

McCoy chuckled and rolled over onto his face, deciding to bury himself in his pillow instead of dealing with this mortifying development. On his front he was unpleasantly reminded just how hard he still was. He groaned again and palmed at his dick, willing it down. It didn't help. If anything the contact got him more revved up.

 

“Spock, can I use the bathroom first?” McCoy asked, his face still buried in his pillow.

 

“Are you sure you are in a state to get up?” Spock asked.

 

“If you're referring to my morning glory, that is exactly why I'd like the bathroom,” McCoy mumbled. 

 

“Ah,” Spock trailed off uncomfortably. “No, I was not referring to your…” he cleared his throat. “You are still in bed, Doctor, and we are in something of a rush,” Spock said in his stoic, Vulcan voice.

 

McCoy laughed throatily. “Don't worry, I'll be quick.” He rolled out of bed and grabbed one of the towels. “Halfway to done already,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at his blatantly tented pants. He pulled the towel in front of him to save Spock the sight. 

 

He turned around and noticed Spock's blush. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right, Spock rarely blushed. He was right. Spock must've heard his halfway to done comment. “You see,” McCoy started in on lecture mode only to be interrupted by a yawn. “We wouldn't have this issue if your ears,” he paused as he passed Spock and flicked his ear lightly. Spock gasped and looked mildly outraged at him. McCoy grinned lazily at him. “If your ears weren't so damn pointy,” he drawled. 

 

McCoy strolled into the bathroom, chuckling lightly to himself. 

 

McCoy proved himself right in the shower where it took him well less than two minutes to come. To begin with, the hot water hit him and he outright moaned, dropping his head forward to relax his shoulders. In the bliss of the heat McCoy dropped his hand down and began stroking himself, feeling his cock swell to full hardness almost instantly.

 

He had to keep quiet, he was keenly aware of Spock in the next room, and those damn gorgeous ears could probably hear him breathing. He found himself thinking about his dream, their dream. That was an odd little interaction for the two of them, hopefully it wouldn't make their next three nights together too uncomfortable. It probably would. 

 

Well, McCoy could bluster his way through most situations, surely this would be no different. 

 

He came louder than usual, the orgasm surprising him. His fist hit the wall as he gasped, his toes curling. He moaned luxuriously, the build up to this wank had been remarkable and the payoff was well worth it.

 

He steadied himself, slightly unbalanced from the haze in his mind, and waited until he caught his breath. He laughed shakily, suddenly aware of how loud he may have been and that the sensitive ears next door that tipped him over the edge may well have heard him at it. Oh well, at least he hadn't said Spock's name, he'd managed to catch that hiss before it snuck out.

 

He finished washing himself off, watching unimpressed as his spend spiraled down the drain. 

 

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, drying himself off as quickly as possible. He walked into the bedroom with the towel around his waist and smiled awkwardly at a flushed green Spock.

 

“Excuse me,” Spock said as he stepped past McCoy. 

 

McCoy cleared his throat to respond, but by the time he could Spock had shut the bathroom door behind him.

 

If he dressed quickly he could be out of the room before Spock finished. That might well do both of them a favour. They had always been able to forget any fights between them once another person entered the fray, surely this awkwardness would respond the same. He'd made a right mess of thing. Why on earth would he think it appropriate to flirt with Spock? To be fair, his dick had been doing most of his thinking for him this morning.

 

He got dressed immediately and managed to rush out of the room just as he heard the shower stop.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


“They're just rude.” McCoy voice carried into the room from the corridor outside. He struggled with the latch briefly before pushing the door open and waving Spock in.

 

“They are not rude, they simply don't spend time on needless politeness,” Spock said, placing a small pile of papers on the one chair they had been given. 

 

McCoy watched him. “You don't think they're rude? Who the hell d'you think is, then?”

 

“You do spring to mind as a prime example, Doctor,” Spock said in a tone that sounded suspiciously gleeful.

 

“You…” McCoy trailed off angrily. He'd walked right into that one. He glared around at their quarters. “They put us in the one room, dammit! That isn't on me, that's them,” he snapped, waving his finger around furiously.

 

“They gave fair and reasonable explanations for not supplying us with extra blankets, it does not do to dwell on that which is out of our control,” Spock said. 

 

McCoy was suddenly concerned about Spock. “You asked for more blankets? Were you still cold last night?” he asked, walking past the bed towards Spock.

 

“No, but I assumed you would not want to repeat the exact situation,” Spock said in a hushed voice.

 

“Look,” McCoy said, “I admit it's uncomfortable as hell, but it's a damn sight better than letting you freeze.”

 

Spock nodded, accepting the fact. “Doctor, may I ask you a personal question,” he asked formally.

 

“Anytime, Spock,” McCoy said. He loved it when Spock asked him something personal, it gave him a rare moment of insight into Spock's own life.

 

Spock struggled to speak for a moment. After two false starts he finally spoke, not looking McCoy in the eyes. “I understood that terrans use sex to convey their love for each other, however, your dream was more…” Spock trailed off, searching for a description.

 

“Hot, fast and rough?” McCoy supplied. Spock's eyes snapped to him and McCoy was entertained to see he was blushing again. “Yeah, sex is like that too.”

 

Spock nodded slowly, clearly wanting to ask more but was not willing to.

 

“Sex, the kind we were dreaming of, fills you with a passion. It's unbearable and it builds and snaps until you're fucking someone against a wall, or in a chair. It's not about love so much as _need_ ,” McCoy said, stopping himself from stepping closer again to Spock. He was loving watching Spock react to his words, watching his flush grow, his fingers twist as he held his hands tightly together. 

 

“It's about wanting to be a part of the other person, to push and caress every moan and shiver out of them. Get to know them, in a sense.” McCoy hadn't moved closer to Spock but he felt as if he had, or maybe the room had gotten smaller. Or maybe he was just focusing too hard on this one man. Maybe he had stepped closer after all. Spock bit his lip. 

 

“It's not dissimilar to when we fight,” McCoy said, trying to draw a parallel Spock might understand.

 

Spock's eyes snapped to his. “You consider our disagreements to be like _sex_ ?” he asked in shock.

 

“No, not like that,” McCoy said tiredly. “Just in that the reason I pick you up on everything is to get a reaction to help me understand you. It's a similar mentality to when I bite someone's neck when I'm fucking them to elicit a gasp. I'm trying t' learn.” 

 

“Excuse me,” Spock pushed past him and walked speedily to their bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

 

McCoy sighed. That was that, then. At least Spock hadn't hit him or anything. 

 

It was late, McCoy was tired. He pulled his clothing off, and the absurd necklace he'd been given that day, and started to remake their bed. 

 

He was curled up under the covers half asleep by the time Spock reemerged a few minutes later. He felt Spock standing by the bed watching him briefly before he clambered in. McCoy was curled in on his side, facing Spock, but not touching him. Spock lay ramrod straight, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“M’sorry if I offended you, Spock,” McCoy murmured.

 

Spock turned to look at him. McCoy had his eyes open now and was watching him, sincerely apologetic. 

 

Spock looked back up at the ceiling. “You did not offend me,” he said.

 

McCoy sighed. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy slowly felt himself waking up. He clung on to the fading memory of his dream, trying to commit the scenes to memory. That had been remarkable. He hadn't felt that kind of love since his wedding night. That kind of desperate to feel, desperate to please sex didn't happen often in a man's life, and he felt vaguely impressed that his subconscious mind could conjure it so fully.

 

He steadily began to remember, with no real surprise, that he had shared a bed and presumably a dream with Spock again. He could have sworn they'd fallen asleep not touching the night before, but they were certainly touching now. They were both essentially on their backs, but angled towards each other, their legs tangled and hands resting across each other. 

 

McCoy shifted his body, discovering to what extent he was connected to Spock. One of Spock's hands was resting warmly on his thigh, the other thrown across the Vulcans body to leave his fingers tickling McCoy's palm. McCoy's hand, the one close to touching Spock's, was tangled up in Spock's hair, his other hand resting on Spock's waist. One of his legs was pressing inappropriately hard up against the insides of Spock's thighs. 

 

McCoy chuckled grimly to himself, pulling his body away from Spock's. He rolled over onto a cold patch of bed and decided he missed Spock's warmth and only his warmth, this was not a personal thing.

 

He heard Spock shift around. “Good morning, darling,” McCoy muttered sarcastically. 

 

“Doctor?” Spock asked slowly.

 

“Was that dream more your speed, then?” McCoy asked with a taste of bitterness to his voice.

 

Spock sat up and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

 

“Less rough and tumble, more _kiss me I love you_ ,” McCoy spat. He wasn't sure why he was so angry with Spock, but he was. The first time had been humourous and impersonal, sex can just be sex and they hadn't even done that. Besides, it had been the kind of sex he'd always imagined he'd have with Spock, angry and hot. This time, though, it was far too personal, it had been love, it had been reminiscent of his happiest days and it had been with _Spock_ . He felt mildly violated. 

 

“God damned telepathy,” he muttered. He flung himself out of the bed and grabbed his uniform off the ground. 

 

“Doctor,” Spock said, “I apologise if this has made you uncomfortable.” He was still sitting up in bed, watching McCoy seriously.

 

“You'd better not read into this,” McCoy said, pointing angrily at Spock. “You put the god damned idea in my head.  _Sex is meant to convey love,_ dammit, Spock,” he muttered angrily while pulling his pants on. “I'll use Jim's shower, I'll see you later.”

 

McCoy fled the room, still shirtless but willing to suffer through any curious looks. Jim's room was just down the end of the corridor and he needed to be there immediately. He recognised his anger was somewhat forced, used to hide his mortification and how close to his actual feeling for Spock he'd gone. He refused to accept his feelings, had never entertained the theory of them in any serious way. He held nothing but contempt for Spock. Nothing. 

 

He knew it was a lie.

  
  


\----------

 

Spock had gone back to their room first that night, wanting to read over the locals latest trade proposal in solitude. McCoy had spent far longer staying up with a few local aliens and some delegates from Denobula, drinking the sweet tea they had on offer. 

 

By the time McCoy got to their quarters he was exhausted. Spock was sitting on the end of the bed meditating. He snapped out of it when McCoy closed the door behind himself. The two eyed each other silently for a few moments before McCoy turned to go to the bathroom.

 

Every interaction with Spock that day had been painful and awkward. There had been a handful of moments when they'd nearly slipped back into their old habits and started to disagree with each other on some minor point. But each time McCoy had seen Spock's eyes flutter to his lips or his ears go green and McCoy had been reminded of their dreams. Every time Spock quipped back at him McCoy couldn't help but think that this could be foreplay. That this could be how they flirted. He wasn't sure he wanted that. And if he did want it, he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

 

By the time he left the bathroom Spock was lying in bed, eyes closed. McCoy crawled quietly into bed next to him, lying back to back, excruciatingly aware of the mere inches between them. He could feel Spock shifting occasionally and was fully aware that he was awake and purposely ignoring him. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play it, that was just fine. 

 

McCoy fell asleep slowly and angrily.

  
  


\----------

  
  


His dream was hot and real. He knew it was a dream as he swapped around along the timeline of events. He and Spock fought, he and Spock fucked, he and Spock kissed for the first time. God, that first kiss was amazing, the tension, the moment of doubt. He relived that moment of his dream again and again in every different location he could conjure. Spock muttered in Vulcan and McCoy knew he couldn't come up with that, that meant Spock had to be taking part in this in some capacity. Hell. 

 

He flung his concerns to the winds, the knowledge that this was technically a dream was a nice loophole for him to get some pent up sexual tension out. That and he was extremely horny and desperate to have more of Spock.

 

He crawled his way up Spock's body slowly, kissing every dip and hollow he came across. He watched Spock suck him off on the bridge, his quarters, back on his parents ranch. He fingered Spock, forcing him to keep his eyes open and looking at McCoy, watching him squirm and gasp, location changing and forgotten. He wanted this, he wanted Spock.

 

They watched each other closely, the tension too much to bear. Their lips brushed. They kissed for their first time, time and time again, each one slightly different. Pushed up angrily against a wall, sitting happily next to each other on a couch, swimming, dancing. 

 

McCoy opened his eyes and came face to face with Spock. They lay in bed together, wrapped up in each other. They were so close, McCoy could feel Spock's soft breaths on his lips. He leaned forward, desire and insecurity coursing through him again. He revelled in it. Spock's eyes were wide and glittering, watching him, inching towards him.

 

McCoy's lips dragged across Spock’s. He tightened his legs, pulling Spock in. They finally closed the last millimeters, their lips pressing up against the other's roughly, instantly desperate and wanting. 

 

McCoy immediately lost his hand in Spock's hair, pulling him close and moaning into their kiss. This was amazing. He could do this forever.

 

Spock pulled away, making McCoy groan in loss. “This is real,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy shook his head and muttered, “Dreaming.” He leant in again, kissing Spock fully, pouring his passion in. Spock was still briefly before melting into McCoy's grasp and kissing him back.

 

Moments later Spock pulled himself away again, placing a sure hand on McCoy's chest. “I have no self control in the dreams,” he said. McCoy sighed and trailed his hand up Spock's side. “I have my control here. This is real.”

 

“I do not have my self control,” McCoy muttered, chasing Spock's lips. Spock shifted away from him and pushed McCoy's hands off him. He quickly exited the bed and stood, panting, staring at McCoy in alarm. 

 

“Doctor, I would prefer to discuss this before we continue,” Spock said in a strained voice.

 

“Spock,” McCoy moaned. He was definitely awake, he knew that. He'd known that. He had wanted to pretend they were dreaming. It would have been so much easier and so much nicer. “Spock, we're not going to continue,” he said miserably. 

 

Spock watched him silently. McCoy groaned and rolled over to face away. He lay there sadly, pretending to be asleep, hoping Spock would just let the moment slide. Spock climbed back into bed without a word, curling up with his back to McCoy. Their shoulders brushed when they breathed in together and McCoy could barely handle the contact. 

 

He felt shame rise in him. He couldn't want Spock, that would never go well. It was just residue from the heat of the dream. Nothing more. Nothing more. He fell asleep to that thought and shared no more dreams with Spock that night.

  
  


\------------

  
  


McCoy woke up slowly the next morning to an empty bed. He lay there for a moment, processing his memories of the night. He had kissed Spock. Actually kissed Spock. And now Spock wasn't here. 

 

He rolled over, flinging the sheet off and sat up, groaning. This was a fucking mess.

 

As he wallowed in his confused self pity the bathroom door opened, revealing a wet and flushed Spock. McCoy stared at him, struck by how gorgeous he looked. This was just unfair.

 

“Good morning,” Spock said hesitantly. 

 

McCoy rested his chin in his hand, still watching Spock. “How are you?” he asked.

 

“I am well. Do you wish to discuss the night?” Spock asked, still standing in his towel, dripping onto the floor.

 

McCoy felt a stab of embarrassment and glared at Spock. “And why would I want to discuss that?” he asked as he left the bed. 

 

Spock watched him. “I simply thought-” 

 

McCoy spun around. “Alright, no, this is not happening, this cannot be something. I refuse to accept it,” he said, waving his arms angrily.

 

Spock walked over to his clothes and began laying them out on the bed. “What cannot be something, Doctor?”

 

“This! Us! Me liking you and you not being utterly disgusted by it. I'm not ok with that!” McCoy yelled.

 

Spock pulled his shirt on, otherwise wearing just a towel. He took his time in responding, straightening the wrinkles out of his shirt. “Why do you assume,” he said slowly, “That I would be disgusted by your affection.”

 

“What affection?” McCoy snapped. He sighed loudly and began pacing, his arms crossed. “I mean, I don't even know if I like you. I like spending _time_   with you well enough, but I hardly like _you_ .”

 

“You liked me well enough last night,” Spock said stiffly. 

 

McCoy looked wildly over at Spock. “Last night?” He repeated loudly. 

 

Spock turned away and dropped his towel, pulling his pants on in place. McCoy squeaked and spun about, glaring at the ceiling. “Last night was nothing, Spock,” he said angrily. “I was horny and not lucid. I enjoyed kissing you, yes, but there's no way to know if that's a consistent thing, it could well just be residual emotions from our dream. Nothing to do with _me_ . Or you.”

 

“There is a way to check,” Spock said. McCoy turned around and was surprised to find Spock standing so close to him, barely a meter away. 

 

McCoy found himself to suddenly be very nervous. “What would that be, then?” McCoy asked quietly.

 

“Are you turned on now?” Spock asked.

 

“Not particularly,” McCoy slowly, not trusting this situation at all.

 

“Then kiss me, and see if you enjoy it,” Spock suggested calmly. 

 

McCoy felt his jaw drop. How the _hell_ could he be expected to handle this situation.

 

They stared at each other like beasts about to charge. Spock swallowed. McCoy felt something in him snap and he took two quick steps towards him, his hand flying to cup Spock's jaw line. He stood, about to kiss him, and was suddenly filled with indecision. Was this the right move?

 

“Are you…” McCoy trailed off, shocked by how breathless he was.

 

“You have my consent,” Spock said, sounding like this was the most boring thing he'd had to do in weeks.

 

_Fuck it_ , McCoy thought. He pulled Spock in and kissed him. Their lips melted together and McCoy felt his head go light. Spock tasted clean with a hint of spices and he loved it. He wanted more, he absolutely wanted more.

 

Too soon, Spock drew away, looking closely at McCoy. 

 

“I enjoyed that,” McCoy breathed. 

 

“As did I,” Spock said.

 

McCoy shook his head. “I didn't expect to enjoy that.”

 

“I did,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy's eyes widened as he stared at Spock. “I-” he stuttered, “This doesn't make sense.” He turned away from Spock and clutched at his hair, trying to return to a reality he understood. “I know you hate me, _I know it_ . It's one of the few constants in my life,” he said, panicking.

 

“I do not hate you,” Spock said softly.

 

McCoy turned to face him again. He felt the breath knocked from him at the sight of Spock's green lips and sad eyes. 

 

“I need to sit with this a while, it's too much,” McCoy said tensely. 

 

Spock nodded. “We are returning to the ship today, we can discuss it there?”

 

McCoy nodded jerkily, hand still holding onto his hair for dear life. 

 

Spock walked past him, taking care to not touch him. He reached the door and pauses, turning. “I will see you shortly?” he asked.

 

McCoy nodded again, then turned and walked over to the bathroom. He heard Spock close the door behind him.

 

He flung the bathroom door open, startling himself with the noise of it. He showered quickly, his mind spinning, trying to both address every thought he had and squashing them all down to deal with later. 

 

He was still shaking slightly when he left, not ready to face Spock again, but also extremely excited to see him.

 

\----------

  
  


McCoy was in his office, back on the Enterprise, pacing. He wished he'd come up with a plan of response he was comfortable with. He'd struggled with it all day, trying to decide if he wanted to pursue this. Finally, a hypothetical and vague conversation with a very suspicious Jim had given him a kick in the right direction. Take what happiness you can find. However, Jim had clearly thought he was talking about one of the Denobulan’s party, not _Spock_ . His advice may well have been different had he known what he was advising. 

 

Regardless, McCoy enjoyed his time with Spock. He found him interesting and challenging and funny. And if the last three nights had shown him nothing else, they had shown him just how hot Spock is. And how hot he was for Spock.

 

So now it was just a matter of asking Spock out and Spock agreeing without either of them offending the other. Then successfully dating a man who was his opposite in every way, and had never made life easy for him. Piece of cake.

 

First step was plucking up the courage to go and find Spock.

 

McCoy sat down on his desk. He felt ridiculously panicked. Did Spock even want to date him? Maybe Spock was just messing with him. Or maybe he'd read the situation entirely wrong through a haze of horniness. 

 

There was no way to solve this without discussing it with Spock. McCoy stood up quickly and walked confidently to the door. He turned halfway and covered his mouth, considering what he was doing again. He spun back around after a beat and left, walking quickly to Spock's room.

 

He made his way down the hallway swiftly and found his mild panic grow as he waited for Spock to let him in. 

 

Spock stood by the door when it opened and McCoy felt his mouth go dry at the sight of him. Spock had put on a civilian shirt, a loose purple one with intricate embroidery down the back. The way Spock's eyes reflected the metallic embroidery was not fair, it was far too beautiful. 

 

McCoy couldn't find any words to greet Spock. He stepped into the room silently and awkwardly watched the door close behind him.

 

“Doctor,” Spock said quietly, still at the door. “If you wish no further romantic involvement with me I will take no offense. It will not affect our working relationship. We can simply put this down to unfortunate bedding arrangements.” Spock sounded so much sadder than McCoy thought he could.

 

“Spock, I don't really know what you expect from me here,” McCoy muttered, choosing to ignore Spock's offer.

 

“I had hoped you would… choose,” Spock said quietly. 

 

McCoy shrugged. “Choose from what?”

 

Spock turned and walked over to his table and began tidying up a few Padds and papers. He gestured towards a chair, inviting McCoy over. McCoy didn't feel like sitting yet. “I believe I've made myself clear,” Spock said.

 

“Not… not really. I mean, d'you want to date or just, you know, get our frustrations out this once, I'm lost.” McCoy was watching the floor, following Spock's shadow across the room as he put his belongings away. As the silence dragged on McCoy got more and more uncomfortable. 

 

“Are you really going to make me do this?” Spock asked suddenly, turning to face him, his arms crossed.

 

McCoy started and looked up at him immediately. “Do what?” he asked.

 

Spock breathed out angrily. “Very well,” he snapped. “I want you. And I will let you have me however you wish to take me. If you want me to be your secret bed fellow, I will accept that. If you only want me once every two weeks, I will treasure it. I am willing to make this work even if you are not.”

 

McCoy stared at him, feeling his face heat up. “Jesus, I gotta book you into a negotiation seminar,” he heard himself say.

 

“This is not a negotiation,” Spock said sourly, turning away from him to continue tidying his table. The table was clear except for a small vase with sticks in it, which Spock was needlessly rearranging.

 

“It kinda is,” McCoy said, still lost.

 

Spock stared over at him for a moment and McCoy felt deeply cruel. Spock was clearly struggling too. Spock turned around and walked quickly over to the wall. He touched a few of the old books he had on a shelf and slowed his breathing.

 

“Spock,” McCoy said, “If we do this I won't be doing it by halves. I'll - I'll always want you and I'd be…” McCoy searched for what he was trying to say. This was extremely difficult, he was trying to explain emotions he didn't understand or trust. “I wouldn't ever be ashamed of you,” he finished. 

 

Spock stood still on the other side of the room, facing McCoy silently. McCoy felt absurdly like they were moments from either confessions of undying love or one of them pulling a phaser on the other to just stop the damn situation. He was leaning towards the second option.

 

“What do you want?” McCoy asked. Spock raised an eyebrow. “Once I leave this room, what is the ideal situation for you?”

 

Spock sighed. “I do not require an ideal situation, Doctor, I-”

 

“I know, clearly,” McCoy interrupted, “But what would you want?”

 

“I would- I would like to see you after shift and discuss my day. I would like to hear your opinion and insights on my day, and I would like to hear you complain and describe your day and to share my advice with you. I want to be able to touch you freely.” Spock said his whole tirade without looking directly at McCoy, rather his eyes roamed desperately around the room.

 

McCoy shuffled his feet. “Well,” he said, trying to think of a response. Any response. Just some damn words would do now. “That's… very kind, Spock,” he managed. He felt ridiculous, he was overheating and certain his ears were red. All of that sounded wonderful. Each individual thought he had of dating Spock sounded wonderful, it was just the _dating Spock_   part of things that was throwing him. “I mean, we can do all that without dating, though. I can just, you know, swing by after shift and grab a drink with you or something,” McCoy offered.

 

Spock was quiet for a few moments. “If you would prefer that, certainly,” he whispered.

 

McCoy groaned. “No, Spock, dammit, would you ask something of me?” he yelled. He fet bad at once when Spock looked up at him quickly, startled by his shout.

 

“No,” Spock said. 

 

“No? Why the hell not?” 

 

“Because you have not admitted to any inclination of fondness for me,” Spock said.

 

There was a certain amount of truth to that, yes. “Jesus…” McCoy muttered to himself, trying to build the courage to tell Spock how he felt. He opened his mouth and was quite sure he would throw up instead of speak. “Dammit Spock, alright. We'll try dating, then!” He yelled, crossing his arms defensively. 

 

Spock raised an eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

 

“Let's date!” McCoy shouted angrily.

 

Spock rolled his eyes. “You hardly sound pleased. If you do not wish to date me, then we should not, Doctor.”

 

McCoy growled. He uncrossed his arms. “Dammit, of course I want to date you, have you seen you!?” he said viciously, waving at Spock.

 

“Very well,” Spock said without moving from his end of the room.

 

“You want to date me?” McCoy asked, just to be sure.

 

Spock actually sighed. “The longer this conversation drags on the closer I am to changing my mind, Doctor.”

 

McCoy ignored him and walked over to stand in front of him. “You want to date me?” he repeated.

 

Spock studied him for a beat. “Yes,” he finally said.

 

McCoy was oddly unsurprised. He felt a calm wash over him, everything that had happened in the last week settling into place. He wanted Spock, and Spock wanted him. And it was worth a shot. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Spock whispered, leaning in.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My ideas for this fic have run more or less dry, so I'm gonna leave it here. Hope you enjoyed!  
> Based on my bizarre habit of having sex dreams whenever I overheat. Fevers are fun times.


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